Alden was on the spot in a twinkling. Aflame with rage, he looked down at the lifeless form and bitterly exclaimed:
“I couldn’t fire on you a few minutes ago, but I never felt more pleasure than in doing so just now!”
It was a proof of the excellent training of the sentinels by Shagbark that, startling as was the episode, not one of them abandoned his station. Each knew that to do so would be to invite an attack from the undefended quarter. All held their ground, alert and ready to fire the instant the chance offered.
The crack of the rifle and the shriek of the red man roused more than one sleeper. Three of the men caught up their guns and scrambled out of the wagons. They were bewildered and at sea for the moment. The youth saw the terrified face of a mother peering out of the open space in the canvas at the rear of the Conestoga.
“What does it mean, Alden?” she asked, failing to see the feet of the redskin who lay under the axletree.
“I fired at an Indian,” replied the youth; “keep out of sight for the bullets may be flying any minute.”
